


Complexity Theory

by Dendritic_Trees



Category: Numb3rs, Supernatural
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Bisexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Family, Functional Family, M/M, Mathematicians, Science, advanced mathematics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dendritic_Trees/pseuds/Dendritic_Trees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After David leaves for Washington Special Agent Dean Winchester is transferred to Los Angeles as the newest member of Don Eppes team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transfer

**Author's Note:**

> Any realistic portrayal of FBI or other US Law Enforcement training, activities or protocol is entirely accidental.

Special Agent Dean Winchester was probably more nervous than he should have been. After all, it was just another transfer, not a punishment, and he wasn’t exactly unpracticed at moving around. Still, he was nervous. Usually, when he moved to a new office, people just straight up told him what they knew about it. Every time he’d told someone he was moving to LA they’d simultaneously congratulated him for making it onto Don Eppes’ team, and warned him about Don Eppes’ team. So now he didn’t know what to think.

It took him the better part of the morning to sort through the FBI’s usual paperwork cloud. A black woman with masses of curly hair was sitting on the empty desk he’d been directed to. “Hey, you Winchester?” She asked, holding out her hand.

Dean took her hand and shook it, she had a good handshake. “Dean Winchester.”

“Nikki Betancourt.” She said. “Liz and Colby are out on a call, Don’s at Cal Sci, I’m the welcoming committee. If I were you, I’d take advantage of the lull, get your stuff unpacked.” Then she hopped off of his desk and swanned off.

Dean shrugged at her retreating back, “Hey, Cal Sci? Isn’t that a university?” He called.

“Yep.” Nikki called back.

Don Eppes finally showed up two hours later followed by two other men. “Oh hey,” he said, catching Dean’s eye. “You the new guy?”

Dean stood up and held up his hand “Dean Winchester.”

Don nodded and shook. “Don Eppes. And this is Dr Larry Fleinhart and Dr Otto Bahnoff.” He gestured to the men on either side of him. “They’re helping us with a series of burglaries. Jewelry store theft.”

“Oh,” said Dean, “so you’re consultants? Jewelry specialists?”

“Actually I’m a cosmologist” Dr Fleinhart said “And Dr Bahnoff is an engineer.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and tried to cover it up with a smile. “A cosmologist? Would this be a case involving aliens?”

Don smiled so his eyes crinkled up. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got a location for the next hit, you’re with me new guy, I’ll explain on the way.” They geared up and headed for the crime scene. Don drove.

Dean waited until they were on the road to speak up. “So where are we going exactly? We got another crime scene?”

“Not exactly,” said Don, “Larry worked us up a probability model. Its this sort of mathematical map, it tells us the most likely spot for the next robbery.”

“Seriously, we’re rolling on this because math told us to?” Dean gaped incredulously.

“Hey,” Don said, “don’t knock it. We’ve been doing things for six years now, and its right more than its wrong.”

“Whatever you say boss,” muttered Dean, huffing his breath out through his mouth.

 

Don chose to ignore the new agents poorly disguised incredulity as they pulled into position and settled down to wait. Larry’s equation had said Friday afternoon, the burglars pulled into the jewelry store at 3:02 pm. Liz and Colby, stationed behind the jewelry store counter, grabbed one burglar while Don and Nikki tackled his partner. Dean was left to run down the third robber who emerged from the back of the store. The burglar took one look at the FBI agents and made a dash for the back door. Dean sprinted after him and kicked his feet out from under him. They both went tumbling down the flight of stairs at the back of the store. Dean landed on top, handcuffed the perp and swaggered back round to the parked cars grinning and laughing and bleeding from a long scrape across one cheek.

“Nice catch,” said Colby, he grinned back at Dean.

“Colby Granger, by the way. And this is Liz Warner.” He nodded in Liz’s general direction.

Don frowned. “Yeah, but, you know, shout for backup or something next time would you.”

“Sure,” muttered Dean. “Whatever.” But he stopped smiling.

They switched cars on the way back, so Dean ended up riding with Colby and Liz went with Don. Nikki drew the short straw and was stuck transporting their prisoners.

“Dean Winchester,” Dean introduced himself, once they were in the car.

“You don’t say.” Colby said, “town I’m from is called Winchester, in Idaho. How about you?”

“All around,” Dean answered, “Lawrence Kansas originally.

"Is he always this much of a hardass?” Dean asked, once they were on the road.

Colby simultaneously frowned and smiled at him. “Who, Don? He’s not bad, he’s just a bit slow to warm up to people. Just give him a chance to see how you work, he’ll ease up.”

“Right,” muttered Dean “So what’s the deal with those guys, the cosmologist.”

Then Colby smiled properly. “Oh, Larry and Otto. Well, our mathematicians are in England, so they’re filling in.”

Dean frowned incredulously back at him, with his mouth open.

“Oh no,” said Colby, grinning and shaking his head. “You can meet Larry yourself, just like the rest of us.”

From Colby’s slightly wicked grin Dean had the feeling that he was about to be thoroughly pranked.

 

Larry and Otto were waiting in the bullpen when they returned. “Don,” Larry called, “Have our theoretical investigations met with real-world success? Have you apprehended the culprits?”

“Yes and yes,” said Don. “You are now four for four.”

Don led Dean over to Larry and Otto, the rest of the team followed. “Now that we have some more time,” Don said “Larry, Otto, this is Dean Winchester, he’ll be the newest member of our team.”

Larry smiled, “ah, our new David. Well, welcome to Los Angeles. I’m Larry Fleinhart.” He shook hands with Dean and Otto reached over his shoulder to do the same.

“Otto Bahnoff, call me Autobahn.”

“Uh, right, well, nice to meet you, um, Autobahn.” Said Dean, frowning as he tried to retrieve his hand. “And what are you actually doing here anyway?”

“Koi.” Said Larry.

“Goldfish?” Asked Dean.

“Yes,” Larry explained. “Koi in a pond each follow a unique and characteristic path through the water, and like any regular pattern, it can be described using an equation. Like the koi, burglar’s have a pattern. They prefer a certain type of target, a certain time of day, a certain _modus operandi_ as it were. And that pattern too, can be captured with an equation. And so we, using the data provided by your colleagues have created that equation and turned it outward to find the time and the place which best fits that pattern, and as you have seen, apprehend the culprits.”

“Right.” Said Dean, nodding slowly, eyes wide. “Sure.”

 

Don stood back, watching his new agent experience Larry Fleinhart. He hadn’t been told much about Winchester before he’d arrived and he didn’t know what he had really been expecting, but it hadn’t been this prickly, hot-headed kid with huge green eyes, who was currently staring at Larry like he thought he might be carrying Ebola. On second thought, maybe he should have warned Dean before introducing him to Larry.

Nikki, who had been in Dean’s position most recently, cut in. “Welcome to our very special brand of FBI new guy.” She said, punching him lightly on one shoulder. “Give it a year and you’ll be talking about algorithms and threat matrices just like the rest of us.”

Dean gave her a very pained look. Don mouthed ‘thank you’ to her, over Dean’s shoulder, then called “alright everyone, that’s enough, don’t you all have work to finish up.”

They all scattered, leaving Don alone with Dean. “Welcome to the Los Angeles Violent Crimes Unit.” Don said a little dryly. He managed not to crack up, even though Dean looked absolutely horrified, but he did grin before he forced himself to act like a supervisor. “You’re going to be partnering primarily with Colby, but expect to switch up a lot. And calm down a bit, you just got here, and you’ve nothing to prove.”

Dean straightened up and tightened his lips. “Yes sir.” He muttered. Then turned and became very busy organizing his new desk.

Don just said “Welcome to the team.” And rested his hand, very briefly, on Dean’s shoulder, then walked away. Once he turned the corner, he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he walked over to Colby. “So what do you think of him?” he asked, inclining his head in a Dean-ward direction.

“He seems –“ Colby spent a minute considering his word-choice “tightly-wound.”

“Yeah that’s one way of putting it.” Don agreed. “I’m kind of thinking I shouldn’t have introduced him to Larry right off the bat.”

“You want I should go have a word with him?” Colby asked.

Don just nodded gratefully.

 

Colby sidled over to Dean’s desk. “If it helps,” he said. “All the math stuff is really not as weird as it seems.”

Dean shot him a sideways glower.

Colby continued. “We give them evidence, they give us intel, its just like working with a forensics team and however many outlandish analogies we get to sit through, they’re almost always right. Now Larry, admittedly, is exactly as weird as he seems, but turning him loose on you is the end of us messing with you.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up.

“I promise.” Colby reassured him.

Dean held his gaze for a second or so, then relaxed back into his chair. “So what is the deal with them anyway? I mean, how do you get to, I need to find some jewel thieves, better call a cosmologist?”

Colby stole a chair from the cubicle over and settled in. “Okay, so Don’s little brother, Charlie, is this, like, super math genius. And he started working with Don about a year before I got here, helping out on cases, and it just kinda turned into a regular thing.”

Dean was smirking at him again, “he, what, got stuck on a case and decided, hey, I’ll just ask my whole family.”

“Nah man, its not like that, Charlie’s a real consultant, he’s got a security clearance, he’s done work for the NSA and the Secret Service and all sorts. Anyway, Charlie always works with Larry and Amita, that’s Charlie’s wife, on his regular math stuff, so they all started working on this math stuff too, and then whenever we get something specific Charlie usually takes it to an expert, which I gather is a scientist thing, and Charlie has a lot of friends, so you know, we’ve had a lot of people through here, one way or another. Anway Charlie and Amita are both teaching at Cambridge for a year, so Larry and Otto are helping us out for now. That’s it, that’s the whole story.”

“Huh,” said Dean. “Well, probably faster than the FBI techs, anyway.”

Colby sighed and shook his head. They sat in silence for minute, while Colby tried to figure out how to get Dean to warm up to Larry, or at least the idea of Larry, and not bite his head off, and Dean turned the idea of a pack of consulting mathematicians over in his head. Then Robin walked up. “Hi Colby.”

“Oh hey Robin. Do you need the files on those jewel thieves?” Colby asked.

“No I got them from Don, it all looks pretty straightforward. I came over to meet the new agent.” Robin replied.

“Oh,” said Colby, ‘well then, Dean Winchester, meet Robin Brooks, US Attorney.”

“Nice to meet you.” Said Dean, shaking Robin’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too.” Said Robin. “Hey, we’re all having dinner tonight. You should come.”

 

Dean stared at Robin with his mouth open and his head tilted. Apparently that was special Los Angeles sign language for ‘sure thing, I’d love to’ because in short order they were all headed to Charlie’s house. Dean was still not entirely clear on why they were going to Charlie’s house if Charlie was out of the country. It was a big classic house set into an equally big well-kept yard. Everyone else filed in and filtered into the kitchen and dining room. Dean lagged behind and loitered in the doorway until Don came back and steered him inside. “Dean Winchester, meet my Dad, Dad this is Dean, he’s my newest agent.”

“Ah, the new David. Alan. Please, come inside.” Don’s father said.

He had a good handshake, except that he used it to help drag Dean into the dining room.

Being dragged off to strange people’s houses turned out to pay off in the form of red wine and home-made lasagne. Nearly as soon as they settled around the table everyone started off on what was clearly well established conversations, about some renovations which were apparently being planned and Don’s upcoming wedding to Robin. Dean noted that his boss was engaged to the US attorney, decided he had nothing to add, filed it away and concentrated on his food.

This strategy worked fine up until the first break in the conversation, when Alan decided to be a good host. “So, Dean, when did you get into LA?” Alan asked.

“This weekend.” Dean replied. “Wow, they certainly don’t give you a whole lot of time to settle in, do they,” asked Alan.

“No sir,” Dean replied.

“Do you have any family here? Or friends?” Alan tried, in an effort to get Dean to join the conversation. “No, sir, just me.” Dean replied.

Alan frowned parentally at him. “Well, let us know if you need any help.”

“I think I can manage.” Dean said, a bit shortly. He was not, strictly speaking, equipped to identify parental expressions, so he just saw the frown.

That more or less ended Alan’s attempts to draw Dean into the conversation, and talk moved back towards sports and day to day business while Dean went back to listening quietly. The impromptu party broke up pretty quickly once dinner was finished. Alan handed Dean a container full of lasagne as he slipped out the door. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “I know how it is, new city, I’m sure you’ve got no food in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” said Dean tentatively. Before he left he spent some time standing by the Impala, staring quizzically at the front door.

 

Nikki, Colby and Liz filed out the door not long after Dean, leaving Don, Robin and Alan alone.

“Well, he’s a little standoffish,” Alan said, nodding towards the door to indicate Dean.

Don huffed. “Yeah, tell me about it, you should have seen him earlier, dashing off after this suspect all by himself. Kid’s like a live wire, I tell you.”

“Kid is right,” muttered Alan. “I may be getting old but he looked like a child.”

Robin pursed her lips and shifted her head from side to side like she was looking at each side of an invisible scale. “Well, maybe that’s part of it. He’s new, he’s young, he looks younger, its understandable he might feel like he has something to prove. Is this his first assignment?”

“No, he was up in Colorado for two years before this, and I think he was somewhere else before that. Which, before you ask, is a lot of moving around in that time.”

Robin moved from considering her imaginary scale to Don, “You think you’ve been given someone else’s problem-child?”

Don considered the idea for a minute. “I dunno, I mean, I did finally get his file, and he looks like a pretty damn good agent, he’s just hot-headed, and impulsive, and doesn’t take orders well –“ he stopped to consider what he’d just said, and he didn’t like it, “okay, so maybe he’s a bit of mess. But I mean, Nikki was a bit of a hothead to start out and so was Colby. Heck, so was I, and we all turned out okay.”

Alan swallowed a laugh, “Well, you’ve been running this team for a few years, and trained a few new agents, so maybe they are hoping that you will be able to solve this particular problem.”

Don smiled, “Well, when you put it that way. I just hope he warms up to Larry and Otto, you should have seen his face when I told him how we found those jewel thieves.”

“Well you didn’t see your face six years ago when Charlie was trying to convince you he could find you a serial rapist with a lawn sprinkler.”

Alan said. Don leaned back into his chair and laughed. “No I didn’t.”


	2. Barbeque

Don’s next two cases, a case of fraud and a hunt for a fugitive, went smoothly with no help at all from any CalSci faculty. White collar crime had never been Dean’s best area and as a new agent he spent an inordinate proportion of the case answering phones. But he loved man-hunting, so three days chasing an escaped hit-man around LA with Colby went a long way to making up for time spent tied to his desk. Especially since they were the ones to make the collar.

“Hey, nice job Winchester.” Don called, “You should come to Charlie’s house when you’re finished up there; we’re having a barbecue.”

Dean was in the process of paying for his success by finishing up the case report and didn’t know what to say to that. He knew that the whole team spent a lot of time together, and for some reason, they always seemed to end up at Charlie and Alan’s house, but after his awkward first visit, they had seemed happy to let him restrict his socializing to down time at work. But he hadn’t been lying when he had said that he didn’t know anyone in LA and if he spent one more evening in either an anonymous bar or his empty, half-unpacked apartment he risked disappearing entirely. “Sure thing,” he said, “see you in, like, an hour.”

By the time Dean packed up and made his way to Charlie’s house, things were well underway and everyone was arrayed around the barbeque drinking beer and watching Don cook.  Colby threw a beer at Dean as he walked up the driveway. “Hey Winchester, nice job today.”

“Yeah, you weren’t bad either,” said Dean sprawling into an empty chair. “Don’t know where you lot were though?” He asked Don and Nikki.

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Don, “hey, I left the BBQ sauce inside, would you go grab it, its in the kitchen.”

Dean sighed and extracted himself from his chair. The entrance way and dining room were piled with boxes, papers and at least a dozen chalkboards, which Dean had to navigate around in order to get to the kitchen. Oh, right, renovations.

“So, where is, um, Alan?” Dean asked, as he passed Don the BBQ sauce, and was handed a burger in return.

“In Paolo Alto for a week for some building project,” said Don, “and its not like any of us have room to throw a party in any of our apartments, right?”

“So, your parents are out of town and you’re throwing a party?” Dean said. Everyone who wasn’t Don burst out laughing.

“Oh, like you lot don’t spend all your time here too.” Don managed, then he cracked up as well and Colby had to come and finish handing burgers to everyone else.

 

By the time Dean returned to his own apartment, it was nearly ten o’clock, making it too late for a phone call to South Dakota. Dean phoned anyway.

“Who is this?” Bobby muttered.

“Hi Bobby, its, Dean,” Dean replied, a little shamefacedly.

Bobby huffed into the phone, “You know, when I said to call, this wasn’t really what I had in mind.”

“Right, sorry,” Dean muttered, and moved to hang up.

“No, don’t hang up, I wasn’t sleeping anyhow,” said Bobby. “How have you been boy, LA treating you alright?”

“Its not bad,” said Dean.

“Now why does that make me think that everything has gone to shit over there?” Bobby asked.

“No, its not like that. Its just, not what I’m used to, I guess. I mean, you ever been invited to someone else’s house to Thanksgiving?” Dean asked.

“Its happened,” said Bobby.

“Its like that, I guess, except all the time,” Dean explained.

“Oh, well, that’s clear,” Bobby commented.

“This team I’ve been assigned to, they’re this real tight group, really social, and whatever, and they’ve got these consultants they work with and its like one big happy family. And whenever I mention anything, they all cackle and tell me I’m going to get used to it,” Dean complained. “Which I’m not. And they keep giving me food.” He added, with an air of indignity.

“Yeah, they sound like a difficult group to get along with. All those friendly gestures must be making it real difficult for ya, cause fitting in, that wouldn’t be something you’d wanna be doin’,” said Bobby, “you are so hard-headed some times, would it really be so bad to give these people a chance, I mean, you’re a Fed, how bad can a bunch of other Feds be?”

“Oh come on Bobby, its not like that,” said Dean, biting is lip, “its, like, this one consultant is my boss’s little brother, and he’s a mathematician of all things, and he’s not even in the country and they’re still that his house four times a week. And, I don’t even know man. I mean, I get here and everyone’s chasing down these jewel thieves, and then they tell me after, that we have a cosmologist telling us where to go. A cosmologist. I am so far out of my league here Bobby.”

“Right, because that’s what this is all about, you not being smart enough to keep up with this team,” said Bobby, “I mean, they can’t all be geniuses. Isn’t that the whole reason you have consultants? To be smarter than you?”

“I don’t know Bobby,” said Dean, with a hint of a sigh, “hey, have you heard anything from Sammy?”

Dean could hear Bobby exhaling over the phone and he could picture Bobby frowning and shutting his eyes the way he did when someone was being exceptionally thick. “Have you considered calling him, ya idjit?”

“Come on Bobby,” said Dean, “you know he won’t talk to me.”

“Well, if he don’t wanna talk to you, why would he want me talking to you about him?” said Bobby.

“Bobby, just let me know how he’s doing.” Dean whined. “Sounded fine when I last spoke to him,” Bobby said.

“So he’s good,” Dean asked, “he doesn’t need anything?” Bobby just sighed, and hung up the phone, leaving Dean standing in the dark, listening to the dial tone.


	3. The Gallery

The call from FBI dispatch came in at four AM. Dean was the last person to arrive at the scene; a smallish art museum.   

Don nodded briefly to him as he got out of his car, but was too busy talking to museum security guard to direct him anywhere, so he just lurked behind Don’s shoulder and tried to look minimally awkward while Don finished debriefing the museum guard and a short man in a rumpled suit was escorted over by a uniformed police officer.

Don held out his hand to the man, “Hello sir, I’m Special Agent Don Eppes, and this is Special Agent Dean Winchester.”

“I’m Harold Makkie, I’m the director of this museum, I was told there was a robbery?”

“Well, sir.  I’ve spoken to your security and they said that there was definitely a break in, but nothing seems to have been taken, but I’m going to need you to do a complete inventory as soon as possible, alright?”

“Oh this is terrible,” muttered Makkie, “oh goodness this is just terrible.  I’ll get all my people on it first thing in the morning.  No, I’ll call them now…” he wandered off again, wringing his hands and muttering to himself.

Don turned to Dean and shrugged. “False alarm I guess.”

Dean just groaned and headed back to his car.

 

“So what was that last night?” Dean asked Colby when he got into the office the next morning.  “Why were we even out on that call?”

Colby rolled his eyes. “LAPD said this was the third museum break in three months and they wanted us in on it for… I dunno why actually.”

Dean shrugged, headed back to his desk, and thought no more about it.

 

The second call came two weeks later at 3PM in the afternoon.  The FBI switchboard connected it directly to Don’s desk and Dean didn’t find out about it Don called the whole team into the War Room.

“Everyone, this is Special Agent Jack Tollner he’s with the Art Theft Unit.”  Don explained, gesturing to the man standing next to him. “Agent Tollner –“

Agent Tollner opened a projection of a painting.  “This is a painting called _Girl in a Field of Flowers_. Two months ago it was the assumed target of a –“

Dean didn’t quite manage to suppress a snigger.  The painting was of a small girl in a white dress sitting in a field full of daisies.

Agent Tollner, not to mention Don, glowered Dean into silence and Agent Tollner continued, “was the assumed target of a robbery. Last week it was supposed to begin a major tour when the pre-tour authentication found that it was a forgery. Given the recent break-in and the fact that this painting has been authenticated multiple times in the past we’ve taken an interest.  Based on the recent series of failed robberies we’re now going back and examining likely targets and since you helped us with that Pissarro case I was hoping your brother could work some more of his magic.”

Don grinned a bit sheepishly, “well actually my brother’s in England, but I’m sure we can find someone to help you out. I’ll give Larry a call. Keep us up to date with this case.”

“I appreciate it Eppes,” said Tollner, “and now I have three art galleries to visit, so I’ve got to run. I’ll keep you informed.” He said as he rushed out the door.

“Come on,” muttered Dean, once he was out of the door.

Don turned his head sharply to face him, “you have a problem there Winchester.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, “I thought I was joining the violent crimes unit, not the crimes against old paintings unit.  I don’t see how art forgery is our problem.”

Dean could see Don’s jaw tense as he gritted his teeth before answering, “another agent asks you for help on a case, then it becomes your problem.  And now I think there’s a bank of phones with your name on it. I’ll let you know if we need you for anything else.”

Dean stalked back to the phones.

“Don’t you think that was a little abrupt?” Colby asked Don, as soon as Dean left.

“No Colby, I do not,” said Don, “everyone’s got cases they don’t like.  The rest of us all manage to keep a straight face during briefings. New kid can do it too.”

Colby nodded speculatively.

 

Agent Tollner called them back two days later standing over a body.

“Violent Crimes enough for you yet?” Don asked Dean.

Dean didn’t grumble, but he certainly looked to Don like he was thinking about it.  Don knelt down and peered at the body.  “ID says his name’s Anthony Wilner, he’s a gallery security guard, and he was scheduled to work tonight.  Angle he’s at, I’d say he fell down the stairs.  The death might have been accidental.”

“Yeah, an accident in the middle of a robbery,” Dean muttered.

“Agent Winchester,” said Don, “go check the perimeter.” 

Dean stalked off and Don spared a brief glare.  “New agent,” he explained to Tollner, “I’m still breaking him in.” 

Tollner nodded sympathetically. “The art theft department is assuming that this is part of the same series of robberies I briefed you on the other day, we think that that the target was this painting over here, J.M.W Turner’s “ _The Forest of Bere_ ”.   Its on loan from the Tate gallery in London right now.

“Okay,” said Don, “and why do you think the thief was after that piece, in particular.

“Well, its right over there and its easily the most valuable painting in this building.” Tollner explained, pointing across the room.  “Getting a piece from the Tate is a big deal for a gallery this small.” 

“But its still here,” said Don.

“Well, it looks like its still here.   But one of the galleries that was targeting just had an important piece turn out to be a fake, so naturally we’re suspicious.”

“Well, we’ll see what forensics turns up, but based on the scene, I’d say that the thief was surprised by Wilner at the top of the stairs, they fought, Wilner got knocked down the stairs and the thief ran off, but get whatever photos you need of that painting and send them to Larry Fleinart at Cal Sci, he’s handling the analysis.”

Don ran into Dean again just outside of the gallery.  “I think I’ve got something,” he started.  “Maybe.”

“Well, okay,” said Don, “let’s see what you’ve maybe got.”

Don followed Dean to just outside of the gallery. 

“Look here,” said Dean, pointing to the lock, “the lock has been picked, but, like, by an idiot. That’s why its all scratched up like that.”

Don nodded, and knelt down to look at the tiny scratches.  “Good catch,” he said.  “So, what’s the story? The art thief can’t pick locks?”

Dean’s shoulder’s came up around his ears, “come on,” he grunted, and led Don back out to the next set of doors, “look, no scratches.  I checked the other doors too.  Its just the one door they couldn’t get into, but there’s a couple of locked inside doors between here and the entrance.  They could’ve been hiding inside, but its probably an inside job.  Which I could have told you.  Because no one else cares about these paintings.”

“See,” said Don, “that was good, and then you went and ruined it.  Go back in there, get a list of museum employees, which you can then take back to the office, and go through, at your desk, until you learn to stop being such a smartass.” 

Dean slunk back into the gallery.  Don leant back against the wall and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

 

Don spent the rest of the day avoiding Dean while he sighed and thumped the coffee pot around until he finally thumped a pile of file folders onto Don’s desk.

“Nice work,” said Don, “and good catch on that lock.  I wouldn’t have spotted that.  And for future reference, you do not get to decide which cases are worth our time. If we have a case, you take it seriously, or you stay here, and you answer phones.”


	4. Data-gathering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the interminable delay guys. It turns out that I am both really bad at, and hate writing whodunnits. So have this bit, 80% of which has been sitting on my computer for months, while I redirect this back to the character interactions I actually wanted to write in the first place.

Dean ended the day totally not sure what to think.He’d had supervisors compliment his work and he had definitely had supervisors chew him out before, but he’d never had anyone ricochet between the two as fast as Don Eppes.He came back the next morning not sure if he was confined to the phone bank for the crime of being a smartass or if he’d done good work the day before.

Nikki flagged him over almost as soon as he got in, “we’ve got a briefing in five in the war room,” she said, “so here’s some free advice.Keep a straight face this time.”

Dean looked at her with a perfectly straight, expressionless face.Because he was a smartass.

“Very funny,” said Nikki, “I mean it.Look, I came here from LAPD, working in East LA.So the first few times I had to work one of these, high-end, big-money crimes, yeah, it was a little weird.So I get it, but deal with your cognitive dissonance on your own time or Don is going to kick your ass.”

“Cognitive dissonance?” Dean smirked, because that was a total nerd term if he had ever heard one.

Nikki rolled her eyes at him dramatically and flipped her hair over her shoulder before grabbing a notepad and heading into the war room.

Don and Agent Tollner was already there, and the last to arrive was Larry Fleinhart who wandered in like he was surprised to find himself there.

“Alright everyone,” said Don, “first off, we’ve got the preliminary autopsy back on the security guard.Looks like it was exactly what it looked like, he died of head trauma, there aren’t any other defensive wounds, so it looks like either someone he didn’t see pushed him down the stairs, or he was chasing someone and fell, which doesn’t tell us much that we didn’t already know.Second off, Larry here has analyzed the first painting for us, go ahead Larry.”

“I draw your attention to the _Girl in a Field of Flowers_ ,” said Larry, dreamily.He pulled the image of the first ‘stolen’ painting up onto half of a monitor, “and her clone.” He continued, and pulled up a second picture, of the same painting on the other half of the screen.

Dean wondered if he could get away with napping.

“At first glance, our two girls appear identical, especially to a causal observer.But, when we turn a more mathematical eye, very different.” 

He poked at his laptop and the two paintings (which still looked identical) were covered by some squiggly graphs.

“You all remember our friend, the curvelet analysis.Last seen returning Nazi looted art to the hands of its rightful owners.When we perform the curvelet analysis on these two paintings it turns out that they are not so similar after all.”

This was total gibberish to Dean.But Don was smiling fondly, like he had many good memories of curvelet analyses past.

“But, we already knew the painting was a fake Larry,” Colby complained.

“Yeah,” said Nikki, “you don’t get to do the big reveal unless you’ve told us something we don’t already know.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Larry.And he actually waved his finger at Nikki and Colby.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting,” This first painting, on right.Well, on my right, your left, is a high quality digital photo taken from the museum archive.And it was shot when the painting first arrived at the gallery.And, when I compared to a catalogue of the artist’s earlier work, we can see, that this painting is the real thing.All these curvelets look the same.” 

He put more squiggles on the screen.

“But, here is the second picture, which I got from the FBI art-theft division, and this was taken during the most recent authentication.And, it, as you can see, is a fake.So that is our mystery. The painting that stopped being real.”

“Okay,” said Liz, “so the museum had the real painting at one point, but it got swapped with a forgery.Do you or Autobahn have fancy math that could tell us when?”

Larry’s face fell, “nothing immediately comes to mind.And Dr. Banhoff is at a conference until next Friday.I suppose some attempt to date the forgery itself could be made, but I suspect that the FBI’s Art Theft unit can manage that without our assistance.”

“No, don’t worry about that,” Don cut in, “I’m not worried about the forgeries, I’m just worried about the break-ins.Agent Tollner you said there’d been a break-in at the museum this was in?”

“Yes, two months ago, but we’d recorded it as a failed break-in, since we assumed nothing was taken.”

“And you said there was a string of break-ins you were investigating.Were they all ‘failed’ break-ins?”

“Yes, we have five recorded break-ins, over four months all with nothing apparently taken, which obviously we’re now reevaluating.”

“On the most recent case you gave as a presumed target, the _Forest of_ something.Anything like that at the other sites?”

“Well we assumed the _Forest of Bere_ was the target because it was a very high value loan.I think the first museum that reported a break-in might have had something similar, but I don’t think the others did, I can check.But this raises the possibility that any or all of the other failed robberies was actually a successful theft.But short of reauthenticating the entire gallery, I don’t know how we’re going to check that.”

“And I take it that that’s not an option?”

“No,” said Tollner, “that would take weeks and be hugely expensive, we’d need to narrow down a the targets somehow.”

Don looked expectantly at Larry.

“What you’re proposing would most likely be an application of set theory.An algorithm that could define the thief’s likely targets based on shared properties…” said Larry.

“Yeah, and you’ve definitely done stuff like that for us before,” said Liz, “can’t you whip something up?”

“Eeehhh,” said Larry, “in theory, yes, but at present our only criteria for such a set would be some unknown similarity with this single painting, which isn’t helpful.I mean, certainly if you want a list of every single painting in Los Angeles with flowers in it I could produce it for you.But I doubt it would be particularly useful for any sort of investigation.It seems we’ve found ourselves trapped in something of a loop, we need to identify more forgeries to create an effective algorithm, but without an algorithm, we’re unlikely to discover another forgery.”

“What if the commonality isn’t the actual paintings though,” said Don, “what if its something about the museums, like the location, or the security?Winchester, go over what you found the other day for Larry.”

“Uh,” said Dean, “so, it turns out that our art thief is a crappy lock-pick.The lock on the gallery, I mean, the room of the gallery the painting, the _Forest of Beer_ was pretty obviously forced, they scratched it up pretty bad.But the outer doors weren’t scratched up at all, and I figure no one forgets how to pick a lock half way though a burglary, whoever it was either had a set of keys and could get half-way in, or they were hiding in the bathroom when the place closed.”

“And yesterday you said you thought it was an inside job,” Don prompted.

“Well, yeah, that’s my guess, but like I said, it could have been someone who just got in earlier and hid in a bathroom stall,” Dean admitted.

“Multiple theories is good,” said Don, “keep pursuing both of those ideas until we get some solid leads.”

“The spatial relationships of art to security measures is certainly the sort of thing could be used to make predictions.Although I will confess, set theory is somewhat outside of my comfort zone, I’ll ask Millie if she’d be willing to take care of it.

“Larry, that sounds good,” said Don, “Winchester, take Agent Tollner and Liz, I want you to go through each museum and gallery, get all the employees, a full security breakdown, and check for any more forced locks, they’re still our best lead.”

 

Dean found himself bundled into a Bureau SUV with Tollner from the Art Theft division and Agent Warner following in a second car. 

“So, how do you want to break this down,” Liz asked, “We could split the museums, we’d probably be done faster.”

“Or, I could look at the locks, and you could deal with all the - museum people,” Dean suggested.

“You really do not enjoy working art theft, do you?” Tollner asked.

Dean shrugged.

“You know,” said Tollner, “if you really can’t bring yourself to care about what happens to irreplaceable works of art then that’s fine.But you should consider that the sale of stolen art and antiquities is often carried out by organized crime.It funds terrorism and human trafficking.So you can think of it as, I don’t know, violence prevention. If it helps.”

 

It did help, and Dean would actually rather have sulked, but Liz did take his suggestion and went with Tollner to interview museum security, leaving him to examine every, single lock in four museums, or at least what felt like every single lock.Every single outer lock was intact, but three museums had scratched inner locks, which Dean carefully marked off with a black X on the maps in the museum director’s office.

“Oh my, what’s this all about,” said a voice behind Dean, as he was filling out the last map.

“FBI ma’am,” said Liz, before Dean could, “can I ask who you are?”

“Oh, um, I’m Dr. Delaware… Lisa Delaware.”

Dean straightened and turned around to have a look at Dr. Lisa Delaware.She was a small, plump woman with glossy brown hair loose around her shoulders, wearing slacks and a jacket.

“I’m sorry, why are you here?” Dean asked, rifling through the security documents for the list of museum employees.

“Dr. Delaware is an art restoration expert, and very well regarded in the field,” the museum director, Makkie, offered.

“Well, she’s not on your list of employees,” said Dean.

“Unfortunately,” said Makkie, “we don’t have the money to employ a full time restorer, Dr. Delaware works with us on a freelance basis.She’s authenticated several of the works you’ve been looking at.”

“Oh dear,” said Dr. Delaware, “are you here about the break-in?”

“Yes,” said Dean. 

“It turns out there may have been a case of art fraud connected to the break-in,” Agent Tolland.

“Fraud?” Dr. Delaware asked, “well, I’ve authenticated a lot of recent paintings for Director Mackie, I’m happy to re-verify them.”

“Actually, given the nature of the fraud, we’re going to require that our own experts perform all authentication. But thank you for the offer,” Agent Tolland said.

“We will need a list of other galleries and museums you work for,” Liz added, “just as a precaution.Agent Winchester will take your details.”She set a hand against Dean’s shoulder and shoved him forward. 

While Dean patiently wrote down a list of what looked like every gallery and museum in LA, Liz got a phone call and ducked into the hall. 

“Hey, did you just say the 4th street gallery?” Dean said, his eyes catching on a familiar name.

“Yes,” said Dr. Delaware, “is that a problem?”

“No,” Dean lied, “I was just there the other day.”

“Oh,” Dr. Delaware cooed, “its such a nice place, I was just horrified to hear about what happened, did you see their new contemporary exhibit?”

“Actually, I didn’t get to it.” Dean said.“Is this it?Did you work anywhere else?”

Delaware bobbed up onto her toes to look over Dean’s arm at his notes, “yes.Yes, I think that’s everything.”

“Okay,” Dean said, fishing a business card out of his pocket, “call me if you think of any you missed.I have to go now.”And then he walked out into the hall before he could get asked about art again.

“Oh great,” said Liz, when she caught sight of him, “that was Don.He said take all the maps and the security details to Cal Sci and give them to Millie - to Dr. Mildred Finch, then meet us back at the office.”She dumped the pile of maps into Dean’s arms, and walked off.

 

Dean drove to Cal Sci, parked, and promptly got lost looking for Mildred Finch’s office.Eventually he resorted to cornering one of the students walking down the hallway for directions.He eventually found the door labelled ‘Dr. M. Finch,’ knocked, and walked in without waiting for an answer.

The woman behind the desk, presumably Dr. Finch looked up and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t hold office hours until tomorrow, can you come back then?”

“FBI,” Dean grunted, pulling out his badge and shoving it in her face.

“Ohh,” said Dr. Finch, “you must be Don’s new agent.I thought you were one of my new undergraduates.I’m so embarrassed, does this mean I’m getting old?I hope not.I’m Millie, please, come in, sit down.”

Dean yanked the second chair out, flopped down into it, and dropped his pile of blueprints and personnel lists on top of the other papers on Dr. Finch’s desk. 

Dr. Finch adjusted her glasses and started to leaf through the files, “let me see here.So these are galleries that have been robbed?Larry said this was an art fraud case.”

“There were paintings that were stolen, but replaced by fake paintings, but no one can tell which one s are fake, and apparently you can find them with, like, math,” Dean explained.

“Oh, the break-in at the 4th street gallery,” Dr. Finch said, “I heard about that.Its terrible, its such a nice place.”

“So people keep saying.”

“Larry,” Dr. Finch continued, “suggested that a set theory algorithm could be used to find the target paintings.But you’ve only got one identified fraud to use as a basis for the set and… can you explain to me what the marks on these security diagrams indicate?”

“There were forced locks at some of the crime scenes,” Dean said shortly, “just inner locks, never the gallery doors.I’ve marked those off with those stickers.”

“I see…” said Dr. Finch, “you know based on this, I think set theory might not be the best approach, or, at least not the best approach right away, I’ve got nothing to build a set with.I would actually think that a hand-path analysis, would initially yield better results.Or perhaps decision theory…”

“Well as I have no idea what either of those things are, and I sucked at math in high school, so I really can’t help you,” Dean cut in.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Finch said, “I don’t work with the FBI as much as Larry or Charlie, I guess I’m not as good as explaining myself.I’ll call when the results are ready.”

Dean grunted, and left.


	5. Conclusions

Don got a call from Millie a few hours after he called her about helping Larry with his algorithms.

“I don’t think I made a very good impression on your new agent,” she said, sounding very apologetic.

“What’s he done now?” Don asked.

“Oh, no, it was all me, I’m ashamed to say,” Millie said.“Its possible that I may have mistaken him for one of my new undergraduates.I don’t think he took it as a compliment.Why?What’s he done before?”

“He’s - nothing,” Don sighed, “he is just - running a little bit hot, is all.He’s just come out of man-hunting, and we’re working this art fraud case, and actually, I don’t think he is totally on board with the mathematical approach to crime fighting yet.So he is - adapting.”

“A man-hunter?I must be getting old,” Millie said, “he looks like, well, an undergraduate.”

“You’re telling me,” Don agreed.

“Anyway,” Millie continued, “I’ve taken a look at the security data you gave me with Larry and I think we need to take an alternate approach.I just can’t get the security data and the single fraudulent painting you’ve identified to produce a coherent set.”

“Charlie hasn’t corrupted me that much Millie, I don’t know what that means.I can tell you that they confirmed that a second painting has been identified as a fraud.Its - give me a second to look it up - _The Forest of Bere_ by um -“

“J.M.W. Turner?” Millie asked.

“Yeah, that,” said Don, “I don’t know if that helps.”

“More data always helps,” said Millie, “usually, when a group of objects won’t make a set, it means, well, it means they aren’t just one group.But I’ve spoken to Larry about it, and we both agree that it seems statistically improbable for this to be two separate sets of crimes, so we’re going to try a second approach.I’ll let you know.”

“Well, we appreciate it.Thanks.”

 

It took Millie and Larry the whole weekend, with Don waiting impatiently the whole time, before they showed up at the FBI looking exceedingly pleased with themselves. 

“Millie,” Don called, “welcome to the FBI, tell me the good news.”

“You see -“ Millie started.

“Well -“, Larry started at the same time.

They both stopped and waved their hands at each other.

“Oh no, go ahead,” Millie said to Larry.

“No, no,” said Larry, “it was your creativity that led us to this - this breakthrough, you should be the one to present it.I insist.”

“Oh alright,” said Millie, looking not unenthusiastic, “well, we were initially attempting to determine a set of stolen artworks based on their locations inside these museums, but when we couldn’t make it work.”

“But,” Larry cut in, “we also knew that our thief had struggled to make entry in some cases, but not in others.A finding courtesy of our new Agent Winchester, I believe.” He nodded at Dean, who didn’t nod back.

“So, it occurred to us that we may have been focusing on the trees at the expense of the forest, and started trying to figure out how the museums were being chosen in the first place, since it obviously wasn’t for easy access,” Millie finished, “so we dug up a list of art museums in Los Angeles and started trying to generate a set containing all the targeted museums, so we could see what they had in common.”

“Oh, hey, I think I remember this,” said Colby, “this is the thing that Charlie’s, frenemy works on.”

“Yes,” said Larry, “Marshall Penfield’s Deep Current Sets.”

“So do we have a set?” Nikki asked, “or a deep current? Or whatever?”

“We do,” said Millie, “I just wish it was more helpful. The analysis keeps bringing up that the targeted museum all have some sort of restoration in common, but from what I know about museums that isn’t exactly a shock. I’m sorry, I really thought we’d come up with something a little less underwhelming.”

“No, that’s very helpful,” said Agent Tollner, “at the very least we can start by comparing employee lists and see if maybe there’s a link. Outside companies are sometimes hired for restoration work as well, we could be looking for an employee there as well, or even someone associated with the couriers working with a forger? Do we know if the same forger was involved in both crimes?”

“They are,” Larry interjected, “the curvlet analysis came through for us.”

“Hey, actually there was someone at the last gallery we were at I think we should start with,” said Liz. “She wandered right into the office while we were taking Makkie’s statement and she said she was some sort of art restorer. We were in the middle of the security check, but I dunno, I just got a weird feeling about her. Hey Winchster, you got her details didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” said Dean. He wandered off, presumably to dig through his notes, and wandered back leafing through his statement book.

“Here she is,” he said, “Lisa Delaware, she said she worked with Mackie sometimes, and she mentioned the 4th Street Gallery too, I remember she asked me about it.”

“You didn’t find that odd?” Tollner asked.

“No, I just figured it was a thing art people talked about, I mean, she asked me pretty much the same stuff,” Dean explained, pointing at Millie, “and I’m assuming she’s not a suspect.”

Don exchanged glances with Tollner, “okay, Liz, we’ll go drag in this Delaware character and ask a few more questions. Colby go cross check the conservation work staff at the other museums in case this doesn’t pan out. Larry, if there’s anything you can do to help with that I’d really appreciate it.”

 

In the end, Colby and Larry didn’t even have time to finish working through their list. Lisa Delaware opened the door to Don and Liz, took one look at Don’s badge, sat down on the floor and started crying.

“I just wanted to put them somewhere they’d be really appreciated,” she wailed later, in the interrogation room, “people just didn’t look at them properly. But that poor man…”

 

“You know,” Don said, later over dinner, “she wasn’t lying. They found all eight paintings in her house. She didn’t sell them. There’s no indication she even tried.”

“Sometimes I actually prefer going after the serious scumbags,” Robin said, “I mean, its gross, but at the end of the day at least you feel like maybe you’ve made the world a better place. Today was just depressing.”

“Well, tomorrow you can probably prosecute me for murdering my new agent,” Don said, “He spent the whole damn case mouthing off, and we could probably have wrapped everything up without dragging Millie and Larry into it if he’d paid more attention when he’d talked to her the first time.”

“Are you sure you’re not being a bit hard on him?” Robin asked, “I mean, would you have caught that when you were his age?”

“Okay maybe not, but I’ve read his file. He’s good at this, I mean, he’s the one who found the evidence that put us onto that line of investigation in the first place. But he’s spent the whole case screwing around, because he doesn’t feel like its important, and I don’t know how to make him get his act together,” Don complained.

“Well I have faith in your abilities as a mentor,” Robin said, and leant over and kissed him on the nose.

“Right now, I don’t, but if you believe it I think I’ll come around,” said Don, “are we still going to lunch with my Dad on Saturday or is that thing with the DA going to get in the way.”

“No, I’m going to make that take less than two hours if I have to do it with a sledgehammer. I’ll pick you up from Temple, we can go to Luo’s.”

“You realize, that by inviting my Dad out to lunch you’ve basically just made us a captive audience so he can grill us about wedding plans?” Don asked.

“Who says I’m not trying to make you a captive audience so we can talk about wedding plans?” Robin asked.

“Oh, no, come on. We know we’re not actually getting married until Charlie gets back, what’s the rush?”

“Well, there isn’t a rush now, but you know how these things go. I’ll get called away for a big trial, and then you’ll get wrapped up in some case, and then a hundred other things will happen, and before you know it we’ll be out of time. So I just want to make plans when things are quiet and we can enjoy them.”

Don groaned, “you have a point. I guess. I mean, look what happened to Charlie. I think my Dad is actually miffed he didn’t get to throw a big wedding, hence, my concern he’s going to take it out on us.”

“Well that’s just unfair, I thought that was a beautiful ceremony, maybe we should get married in Cal Sci too.”

Robin was smirking and Don knew it was a joke. “Well, actually I think the equivalent for us would be the FBI bullpen, but, you know, I can ask the Assistant Director if you’re really keen but the courthouse is actually pretty close, if you think about it.”

“It does have symmetry, doesn’t it,” Robin said, but then she frowned, “you are okay with that right, getting married in front of a judge and not at a Temple? I mean, I know we talked before, but I want to make sure.”

“What?” Don asked, struggling to move from joking to, apparently, not joking any more.

“I just - I know I’ve shot my mouth off about, religion and things before, and I just want to make sure we’ve talked it through,” Robin explained, and topped up their wine glasses.

“Yeah, Robin, its totally fine,” said Don, “most Temples don’t perform marriages where everyone isn’t Jewish, and I don’t want to go get married in some place I’ve never even been just so its in a Temple. Where you get married should have some meaning. Actually, I think you’re right about there being symmetry to it. We did meet at work. So consider it talked through. I promise.”

“Somewhere with meaning? That is actually very romantic Don,” said Robin.

“Well I know you like that.”

“Oh I do.”

“Well, we could ditch the wedding talk for the night, and go talk about romance some more?” Don offered.

“Sure, but lets also ditch the talking.”

 


End file.
